Rosie, Queen of Corona

I was listening to the song Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard today. It’s a quintessentially Queens song. Which is no surprise since Paul Simon and Art Garfunkle grew up there.

Like me, they went to a public school for elementary school, though they went to PS 164 in Kew Garden, which was a predominantly Jewish neighborhood whereas I went to PS 152 in Jackson Heights, which is considered the most diverse neighborhood in New York City (and therefore probably the world).

Corona was not far from either of these neighborhoods.

So hearing about Rosie, the queen of Corona, in the song made me feel nostalgic.

As does a lot of their music, whether they’re talking about the subway walls in the Sound of Silence or the New York City winters in The Boxer.

Of course, the neighborhood I grew up in has changed.

I lived off of Northern Boulevard, one of the major thoroughfares in the city. We weren’t far from Flushing Meadows Park, which is featured in the Men in Black films, Astoria (the site of the rows of houses in All in the Family), or LaGuardia airport.

As a child, I’d ride my bike to a large grassy field not far from the airport. I would like on the ground, near a tree, and watch the planes fly overhead. They would take off from the airport and fly close enough I could see the undersides as they were en route to cruising elevations.

Mom would take us with her when she went shopping on 73rd and 74th streets between 37th and Roosevelt avenues. I remember a variety of shops.

Near the Roosevelt Avenue subway station was a Chinese grocer with Peking duck hanging in the window. Right next to the subway was a florist.

I remember buying flowers there for my mother with my allowance in high school — I liked to get her gladiola because I could afford them and they were so pretty.

There was a Colombian bakery and a Jewish bakery with poppy seed cakes and a liquor store run by Italians, as well as a pizzaria with no tables, just a counter and a few stools.

Nearby was the Balint Dance Studio on 72nd St. off 37th Ave. This was where I took ballet classes for several years.

From the YouTube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=MpSlYQZOGAE

The Indian stores in the area included Apna Bazaar, which means “our market” in Hindi, and where Mom got her Indian groceries. She also sold them the mint she grew in the back yard — she sold it for $0.35 a bunch, and used the proceeds to help buy Indian spices, vegetables, pickles, etc.

In those days (in the 70s) you had to go to specialty stores for ethnic foods.

I would beg her to buy snacks such as Hot Mix, which I still love, though it’s hard to find these days.

Mom would also stop at the Indian appliance store, Sam and Raj, for Indian movies. They were rented for a dollar for the week, so Mom would return the last one and get the next one.

There was an Indian sweets place called Shaheen sweets as well, and clothing boutiques that originally carried Western dresses that were eventually replaced with Sari shops.

After we finished shopping, Mom took us to the pizzaria. We ate slices of Sicilian pizza, which was spicier and shaped in square slices. For the walk home Mom got us Italian ices. They were served in paper cups. I liked lemon and chocolate the best, while my brother liked the rainbow flavor.

Things were very different when I visited the old neighborhood in 2010.

Jackson Heights today; source: https://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/24/realestate/jackson-heights-queens-diverse-and-evolving.html

The area had become Little India, with signs in both Hindi and English, and all the shops and restaurants were South Asian. The old pizzaria now sold take-out samosas, and we ate at a Tibetan restaurant that served yak meet. It turns out that Queens has the largest Tibetan community outside of India.

The changes in the neighborhood are part of life in New York City.

My best friend in junior high was from Bogata. But the areas that were once predominantly Colombian became more varied as people from El Salvador, Guatemala, and Mexico arrived.

Further north there were areas filled with people from the islands — Jamaica, the Dominican Republic, Barbados, etc.

Mom was good friends with several neighbors, including a Greek lady, a Pakistani lady, a Bengali, an Armenian, and a couple of white ladies whose ethnicity I don’t remember. I once served as a cat sitter for one of these women when she went on vacation with her Lebanese boyfriend.

There was also an older black lady I remember who would sometimes stop during her daily walks to talk to Mom. When Mom’s tomatoes were producing, she, along with other friends, got a few since Mom always had a bumper crop.

It was astonishing what Mom managed to grow in a backyard in Queens — mint, roses, eggplants, tomatoes… she also tried to grow gardenias on the balcony but the squirrels kept eating the buds.

Technically, our first floor neighbor was supposed to have first rights to the garden, but she didn’t care to plant anything.

I remember Mom hanging sheets to dry from the balcony. In those days, this was common, and we all loved the scent of those sun-warmed linens.

I remember playing in the back yard, finding wild garlic, letting lady bugs rest on my finger, seeing fireflies on warm summer nights from my balcony, and taking a ripe peach from my neighbor’s tree. He was willing to share since Mom gave him tomatoes.

Looking back, it was an idyllic time in my life. But then, childhood always seems that way.

This was when I was young, but so were my parents. We were all healthy and optimistic. I remember how excited I was to get into Stuyvesant High School and then MIT. I remember running in Central Park to train while on the Cross Country team, and dancing all night with my team mates. I remember watching the Saks Christmas display and the ice skaters at Rockefeller Center.

I celebrated Passover with my Jewish friend and went to Mass with a Catholic friend. I remember the icons in the house of my Greek friend and the asking my Sikh friend why he wore a turban.

This was before I got cancer and my life became more and more circumcised. These days I am lucky if I can cook a meal. Some days I have to rely on Mom to do everything.

Yet, I still find joy in life.

I can see cardinals from my window on the bird feeder outside. I can still go out and look at the summer moon. Mom is still alive and I can (and do) hug her often. And I listen to the music that reminds me of my childhood. It makes me smile.

I am fighting stage IV cancer. If you can help with medical bills, I would really appreciate it. Or if you enjoy my writing and would like to buy me a cup of coffee, that’s great too. Maybe someday I can return the favor.

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This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.

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